The Box
by Chadini
Summary: Short story about Warrick and Catherine.  Set after Grave Danger.  Maybe there is a time for second chances.


Summary: A one shot of Warrick /Catherine angst. Set after Grave Danger.

Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I own neither the characters nor anything to do with CSI. I am merely a fan. That is it.

The Box 

For the last couple of weeks I would wake up in the middle of the night, bolting straight up out of a dead sleep, sweating and clutching my chest trying to catch my breath. It would feel like I had just run a marathon, all uphill. Only after a few moments did I realize that I was safely at home, in my bed, and not at the lab watching Nick on a computer screen, buried in a plastic box with a gun to his head.

No matter what I do, I can't get that picture of Nick out of my head. It is like it has been branded into my memory, filed away in the same place that holds the other moments that you never forget…

First car.

First bet.

First girlfriend.

First autopsy.

First friend buried alive.

When I was alone, looking at the screen in the AV Lab, watching him, I thought for sure Nick was going to pull the trigger and I was going to be the only witness to him blowing his brains out. I remember standing up, begging him not to pull the trigger, feeling so utterly helpless and small. I remember looking around the room for someone else to come and help. Help with what I didn't know. I just couldn't watch.

Tonight was no different.

I get out of bed and go into the bathroom, hoping that a little cold water splashed on my face will shock the images out of my head. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. It was worth a try. I let the water run from the tap until it is ice cold and I cup my hands under the faucet, letting the water run over my hands until they are stinging from the cold. I bring handfuls of water splashing to my face, making a mess of my counter. As I look at my face in the mirror, water dripping, I imagine what it would be like to process the scene. I can't not think about it. Processing everything, from the gun fragments to Nick, and how it all would likely be contained in the box…maybe a little in the surrounding soil. But mainly, all in that box. I shake my head hard from side to side effectively making myself a bit dizzy. I need to shake the images out of my head.

We were all different in one way or another after Nick's abduction. Everyone that knew Nick reevaluated his or her own life in some way. No one talked about it, but if I could see the subtle changes in my friends, I am sure that everyone else could as well.

We were all more protective of each other. No one was ever alone. Absolutely not at a scene, something that Brass and Sofia personally saw to. We were barely alone in the lab, not that we wanted to be. In fact, just the other day Greg was following Sara so blindly that it wasn't until they were in the small gray room with two stalls that he realized that he had followed her into the ladies room.

Sara stopped begging for overtime. I think she may have even started dating someone seriously.

Grissom started to go home after shift.

Nick talked to his family more and went to movies once a week with Greg. It turns out they are both horror movie buffs and loved Eli Roth's films.

Catherine tried to spend more time with Lindsey.

Me? I decided I didn't want to be alone anymore, that it was time to settle down.

Catherine and I always had a connection of sorts. Some days you could, for a split second, see the electricity between us. It was like when you drag your feet across the carpet and then touch the metal filing cabinet with your finger. That bright, powerful, and slightly painful, shot of electricity. That was what we had.

But we were never single at the same time.

So it was safe.

We always flirted.

We had our own language of winks and nods.

Once, we almost kissed.

Almost.

Once.

It was the day that we had to search through miles of underground sewer pipes. When we came out into the open, the sun was shining, we were in our hip waders and it was perfect. As Catherine was climbing up the embankment, she fell back into me, giggling.

Giggling.

That was the best sound I had ever heard. I could listen to her giggle all day. It was so light and free.

Our faces were a few inches apart; we were both memorized with the closeness that we were sharing and then…

A city worker asked if we were CSI. And with that, the spell was broken.

I almost kissed Catherine.

Almost.

At that point I should have known that my relationship with Tina was doomed.

_Doomed._

_Shit._

Catherine saw my wedding ring before I had a chance to tell her about it. I didn't think about it. Well, I had thought about how to tell Catherine about my marriage, but I am not used to wearing a wedding ring, and I was busted. There was nothing I could say. The only thing that I knew for sure was that my ideal spot to tell Catherine about my wedding was not over a corpse.

I had asked David how long the victim had been dead.

" Riger is barely set so not long, under four hours," he replied.

" About as long as Warrick's been married" Catherine offered back, not looking at me.

Ouch. That hurt. Really. Her comment had made my chest tighten.

When we got back to her office to discuss the case she was professional, cool. Cold.

I thought that she might want to talk about it. I know I should have told her sooner, but we weren't dating. We never officially had anything together. I thought at least she would want to congratulate me on my marriage. So I tried to bring it up to her, breaking the ice by pointing out my wedding band with my thumb.

She has a look that I can't quite identify.

She looks …

Angry? No. I have seen her angry enough times, so that isn't it.

Upset? No. She purses her lips when she is upset.

Jealous? No. When she is jealous it is pretty close to angry and that isn't it either.

Disappointed?

Oh. My. God. She was disappointed? She is disappointed that I am happily married.

Her expression changes again and she gives me a small smile as she takes off her glasses, nervously playing with them on her desk. She tells me that she is happy for me.

I tell her that I don't believe her.

She tells me "the thing that makes a fantasy great is the possibility that it might come true. And when you lose that possibility it just, kinda, sucks."

We had that conversation about eight months ago, the only conversation that we have ever had about my marriage.

It is the only thing that I think of as I take off my wedding band and place it in its velvet box, tucking it away in my dresser drawer.

As I get ready for my shift, I wonder if it is possible for a second chance.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate any reviews.


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